


Breathe

by Amikotsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Day 1, KakaObi Week 2019, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: “Do I know you?”He couldn’t breathe. The stale air in his lungs burned through his entire body, a small wildfire catching a wild breeze. His arm extended, hand resting atop Obito’s shoulder, Kakashi stared into the eyes of the man he once knew. Onyx, hard as stone, stared back at him. What was he thinking, grabbing a total stranger?





	Breathe

“Do I know you?”

He couldn’t breathe. The stale air in his lungs burned through his entire body, a small wildfire catching a wild breeze. His arm extended, hand resting atop Obito’s shoulder, Kakashi stared into the eyes of the man he once knew. Onyx, hard as stone, stared back at him. Impatience of varying degrees warred within those dark orbs, and Kakashi knew he only had moments to try and sway the mind of a total stranger. He had no chance. Slowly, hesitantly, he moved his hand from Obito’s shoulder; he let his left arm fall back to his side, and he averted his gaze, breaking the only point of connection they shared. He didn’t know Obito, not really, and saying "no" would have hurt so much more than saying nothing at all. The thoughts crowding his mind, playing beautiful symphonies to letters and words and sentences that weren’t his own, came to a screeching halt. Somehow, they must have met before, against the backdrop of their vibrant little city, but something whispered to him of countless meetings; something told him of blood, sweat, and tears, of a world drenched in nothing but war. Perhaps they’d been soldiers. Perhaps they’d lived and loved a thousand times over.

“Obito?”

He could breathe again, and oxygen, sweet, wondrous oxygen, traversed his very bloodstream, filled his lungs with new life. He didn’t know why he thought to say that name, to add inflection to what should have been a sentence all its own. The impatience evaporated, replaced by confusion. The way the subway lights reflected off those onyx eyes made them seem almost red, and red jarred another memory, then multiple images, one right after another. He knew Obito. Or rather, he’d known Obito. A voice came over the intercom, announcing another stop, and then the doors of the subway opened, allowing a stream of people to escape out into the winter night. Obito shifted on his feet, his briefcase moving from his right hand to his left hand. Kakashi’s long, green scarf brushed against Obito’s gloved hand, and they both took note of the way they were crushed together, forced to inhabit personal space. There were too many people in the car, too many people coming and going. Obito chewed on his lower lip, and then he moved, forcing his way to a pair of empty seats. Two spots had been left, one for each of them, so Kakashi followed.

“So how do you know me? Did my ex-wife send you?”

“It’s a little more complicated.”

“Try me.”

Kakashi closed his trashy romance novel and rested it upon his right thigh. He stared out the window of the car, watching the expanse of grey concrete. The overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then failed. The entire car was bathed in red light, emergency lights, and then the voice came over the intercom again. There was a minor malfunction. They didn’t need to panic. Obito swore and dragged his briefcase up onto his lap. The brown leather exterior contrasted against his grey gloves. He had smile lines, and Kakashi saw a small boy with an infectious grin, a boy with eyes to the heavens, declaring his love of this and his love of that. He’d wanted to be someone. Kakashi took his novel and reopened to the page he’d marked. The crinkled receipt he used as a bookmark worked wonders, and it saved him from bending the pages and creasing the book. He took care of his things, had always taken care of his things.

“How can you read that garbage?”

“Hm,” he hummed in response. “She’s just about to walk in on her husband and her best friend. I want to know what happens.”

He looked over at Obito and smiled, such a rare thing, and shared between the two of them. Obito grunted something, and then he opened his briefcase and rifled through some colored pages. Obito worked at an office, somewhere deep within the heart of the city, and taking the subway must have been the most convenient form of transportation. Kakashi worked downtown, and he found that to be true. Kakashi turned the page of his book and then watched Obito shift papers around from one side of the case to the other.

“Are you a lawyer?”

“God no. I’m an accountant at a firm though. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be explaining how you know me?”

“I own a bookstore downtown.”

An accountant. For some reason, Kakashi found that boring, far too ordinary for the Obito he had imagined, the boy with big dreams. Then again, Obito had grown up, had changed, and maybe that boy had died long ago. Maybe war had swallowed him and spit him back out again, damaged beyond repair. Kakashi remembered a lifetime, in the span of a few seconds, and he felt a sense of longing. Beside Kakashi, Obito spread out in his seat, his posture so different than how it had been before, right before the emergency lights kicked on and bathed everything in a deep red. Kakashi had loved Obito. He knew that with every fiber of his being. And maybe that longing promised him more of the same. Kakashi had never believed in reincarnation, but sitting there, right next to Obito, he believed. He believed in a variety of instances where they’d met and parted, met and parted, over and over again. And he knew that if he let things go, if he let Obito go, that would be yet another instance of loss.

“What are you waiting for?”

Kakashi looked up from Obito’s colorful papers and lost himself in dark eyes all over again. He had one opportunity, just one more in a sea of past possibilities, and he decided then that he didn’t want to lose anymore. He’d spent years losing. He’d spent numerous lifetimes losing. No, he couldn’t take another loss, not after losing his parents, not after losing his foster parents. He didn’t want to part, not without trying, not without taking that first step down the avenue dedicated to the two of them. Kakashi placed the wrinkled receipt back between the pages and closed his book. The woman had already walked in on her husband, so he had achieved his goal. The novel offered him nothing more then, so his escape route had been blocked.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”


End file.
